"Soul-Nurturing..."
Shirakawa gripped the purple-pink straight sword in his hand, feeling the cool touch of the blade and the faint, strange connection resonating with his Breathing Style.
As for how exactly to "nourish" it, the system hadn't explained clearly...
It only mentioned the sword's origin and didn't specify its effects, leaving that same old phrase for the host to explore on his own.
The improvement of Color Breathing depends on the number and strength of the women around him.
A sword has no gender and can only provide limited help, but...
A sword soul can!
That's why the Soul-Nurturing ability was born.
Soul-Nurturing... according to Shirakawa's understanding, this probably meant drawing a female soul into the blade so it could stay with him day and night.
This way, even if there were no other women around, he should still be able to gain a certain level of strength increase by relying on the female soul within the blade.
But whether it was exactly as he thought would still need to be verified in the future.
His gaze involuntarily drifted toward Nezuko, who was sleeping inside the house.
But the next second, he quickly shook his head. He wanted Nezuko to be with him day and night—
But definitely not just as a soul~
If he really only wanted a soul...
Shirakawa suddenly froze for a moment, then abruptly looked up toward the mountain peak!
Right, I almost forgot about that girl!
If this is really about Soul-Nurturing—or in other words, a sword spirit—
Isn't there a "muddle-headed" and "homeless" poor little girl right on this mountain?!
Shirakawa slapped his thigh!
This could work!
Just as he was happily studying his new toy, the wooden door was gently pulled open.
Sakonji Urokodaki, wearing his tengu mask, walked in silently.
He first glanced at Nezuko, who was sleeping soundly in the corner with her clothes neatly arranged, then swept his gaze over Shirakawa, who was sitting properly not far away, and gave an almost imperceptible nod.
(Fortunately, although this kid is a bit lecherous, he at least knows his limits and has a bottom line.)
Then his gaze fell on the straight sword in Shirakawa's hand.
Urokodaki's eyes behind the mask narrowed.
As a former Water Hashira, he had seen no fewer than dozens of Nichirin Blades.
Although each swordsmith in the Demon Slayer Corps had their own style, the general shape was consistent—
A gracefully curved blade, designed for clean, efficient slashing.
But the one before him...
It was too straight.
From the tsuba to the end of the scabbard, it formed almost a straight line. The scabbard was also slightly wider than that of a standard Nichirin Blade, giving off a simple yet sturdy presence.
"This sword."
Urokodaki spoke, his voice calm and emotionless.
"Ah? Oh! This one!" Shirakawa acted as if he had just noticed it, quickly unfastening the sword and holding it up with both hands, presenting it to Urokodaki with a hint of showing off.
"Look, Master! It's been passed down in my family!"
Urokodaki didn't take it. Instead, he signaled with his eyes for Shirakawa to unsheathe it.
Clang—
The crisp sound of the blade leaving its scabbard rang clearly through the quiet room.
At the exact moment the sword was fully drawn, the light of the setting sun struck its edge—
Snow-bright.
Not the soft, flowing brilliance of a curved katana, but something sharper—like a straight-cut beam of moonlight. Clean. Cold. Precise.
Urokodaki's pupils shrank slightly.
This design...
Tang-style?
He had seen something similar before.
Decades ago, there was a swordsman in the Demon Slayer Corps who used a straight blade..
But that person's sword wasn't this... pure.
"Master? What do you think?"
Shirakawa's voice brought him back.
Urokodaki looked up at him.
What mattered most now was the color of the blade.
"...Is this a Nichirin Blade?"
He stepped closer, carefully observing the faint, flowing purple-pink sheen on its surface.
It was well known that a Nichirin Blade would change color depending on the user's Breathing Style.
"Did your ancestors ever serve in the Demon Slayer Corps?"
Shirakawa shook his head so hard it looked like his hair might fly off, instantly putting on the expression of an honest farmer's son.
"I'm just a farmer~"
"This sword was found by my great-great-grandfather in the mountains. My father said it was during a year of heavy snow. He went up to chop wood and found it inside a cave."
He paused, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret.
"How could ordinary people recognize such a fine sword? My great-great-grandfather couldn't bear to throw it away. He was also timid and afraid of trouble, so he hid it at home and treated it as a family heirloom."
After finishing, he nodded firmly, as if reinforcing the truth of his story.
He didn't dare claim any connection to the Demon Slayer Corps.
The Ubuyashiki family kept detailed records of all members—one check, and his lie would be exposed.
This explanation was perfect. Unknown origin. Found in the mountains. Impossible to verify.
I'm a genius.
Urokodaki fell silent for a moment, seemingly accepting the explanation.
After all, the mortality rate of the Demon Slayer Corps had always been extremely high. Losing weapons was nothing unusual.
Still, his gaze lingered on that striking purple-pink color.
A rigid, straight blade... paired with such a soft, almost cute pink hue...
The contrast was intense.
"Come out."
Urokodaki shook his head and turned toward the door. "Prepare for training."
"Eh? I have to train too?" Shirakawa pointed at himself, but still obediently followed, casually fastening the sword at his waist.
They arrived at the familiar training clearing halfway up the mountain.
Before Urokodaki could say anything, his body suddenly stiffened, and the tengu mask snapped toward Shirakawa.
"Where is your 'Constant Concentration'?"
His voice carried clear suspicion. "Inside the house and on the way here, you were clearly maintaining Total Concentration Breathing: Constant Concentration. Why has it stopped now?"
Shirakawa's heart skipped a beat.
As expected of a former Water Hashira... his perception is terrifying.
His expression immediately turned confused.
"Constant... Concentration? Master, what is that? You haven't taught me that yet."
Urokodaki: "..."